


Drifting

by Naomida



Series: Fire Meet Gasoline [4]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Backstory, Gen, The Nightmare - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 15:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naomida/pseuds/Naomida
Summary: Lidya had known the risks of stepping into the Nightmare. She had already seen so many who had succumbed to it, and it never stopped making her uncomfortable and strangely remember days spent fighting the Shas in Pandaria, so she knew, without a doubt, that it was the kind of experience that stayed with people. The kind that scarred you for ever, no matter what you did to try and stop it.Still, there was a difference between knowing something, and living it.





	Drifting

“ _I don’t thin_ _k_ _I can do this_ ” Lidya was writing, legs kicking into air as a too cold to be comfortable breeze blew from the sea she was facing. She adjusted her internal temperature just a bit and looked up, first at the waves crashing at her feet, and then to the left, at the murlocs peacefully swimming out of the frigid water with soft “mgggrl”, clutching seaweeds into their hands.

She had come here to be alone for once, and the murlocs either hadn’t seen her, or didn’t care about her enough to attack. Either way, she had what she had been seeking, and now that she was facing the moody waters off the coast of Val’sharah, trying to write a letter – to whom, she still wasn’t sure – she wondered if maybe that hadn’t been a bad idea in the end.

Having people around tended to prevent her from pondering too much over her personal issues and make harsh decisions, and while she wasn’t about to disappear without leaving a trace to go live off of herb-gathering and hunting somewhere in Pandaria where no one knew her name, she wasn’t that far from it.

She was _exhausted_ , she thought, tucking a strand of hair flying into her eyes back behind her ear. She didn’t remember the last time she hadn’t been in the middle of a fight, or planning one, or making sure she wasn’t going to die in one. She hadn’t stop for more than four days at a time ever since she had left Stormwind to go run after the Prince all over a newly discovered continent.

Maybe that was what she really needed. Long, peaceful and calm days of rest. Nothing but her, a small body of water and fresh wind making the leaves on the tree shiver.

A violent gush of wind almost swept the piece of parchment she was clutching away, and Lidya snorted in derision before rolling the parchment tightly, slipping it into a pouch at her belt and getting up, an eye on the murlocs.

The Legion was attaching Azeroth, she had an entire order of mage counting on her leadership and some of the world’s most powerful people were ready to follow her to death itself if it meant stopping the demons. She wouldn’t get her calm and peaceful days of rest anytime soon, and the only way to get them anyway was by doing what she did best: running into battle with a sketch of a plan and a huge dose of stubbornness.

Besides, an entire village of Gilneans was waiting for her to come back from her “quick trip”, and it was probably time to eat dinner, somewhere.

Still, she took another full minute to just stare at the water, admiring the crashing waves before closing her eyes and breathing in heavily, trying to commit the sound and smell of the place to memory.

Once that was done she grabbed her flight master’s whistle and blew into it.

  


  


***

  


  


Something was wrong. Lidya couldn’t really tell how she knew it, but there was something in her, an unusual heaviness in her bones, that told her that and made the hair at the back of her neck stand.

He fight or flight instinct kicked in the moment she locked eyes with Tyrande.

The priestess wanted to find her husband, and Lidya wholeheartedly respected that, but said husband was about the stupidest smart person she ever had the displeasure to know, and no matter what happened after they stepped into Shala’nir, she _knew_ , down to her core, that it wasn’t going to be good, for anyone involved.

  


  


***

  


  


Lidya was right.

  


  


***

  


  


Khadgar found her sitting on the stairs leading to Krasus Leading, crying pathetically while people passed her by and didn’t dare comment on the fact that she was blocking the way.

“Lidya!” he exclaimed, running to her and kneeling on the steps right in front of her once he arrived, looking deeply concerned.

She started sobbing just a little harder instead of replying, face hidden behind her hands and curled up into herself as her whole body shook. She knew it was pathetic and pitiful and as the designated leader of the Tirisgarde she should keep a strong face in front of what seemed like all of the adventurers of Azeroth, but it was _too much_. She couldn’t go on like this.

“Please Lidya, talk to me,” murmured Khadgar, putting his hands on her shoulders, sounding like he was very close to her face.

Part of her – the part that had been a scared teenager freshly kicked out of the Kirin Tor who had become an adventurer out of fear of dying in the streets of Stormwind all alone, without anyone noticing – wanted him to hug her tight and promise that things were going to be okay and it was just one big hallucination, but she knew by now that this wasn’t how life worked.

So, just like the scared teenager-Lidya had breathed in calmly and faced off an old god with a bunch of people she didn’t know nor trust, scared present-time-Lidya inhaled deeply before looking up at the concerned Archmage whom she trusted and knew very well and announced, lower lip quivering: “I need to speak to the Council and Varian.”

Khadgar nodded gravely, his hands slowly running up and down her arms and shoulders, and when Lidya broke into sobs again a second later, he _did_ hug her, tight and close, right there on the stairs where everyone could see, and she buried her face against his left shoulder and hugged him back just as tight, not exactly feeling better but comforted in the fact that someone was here for her.

  


  


***

  


  


“Ysera was corrupted, we had to kill her.”

No one replied anything. They just stared at her with shock, grief and horror.

For some reason Thassarian was here too, standing right next to Varian, and even he looked completely at loss.

Lidya concentrated on him and powered through, trying to pretend like her eyes weren’t still red and puffy and a little teary still.

“Xavius has Malfurion too, we couldn’t get to him in time.”

Varian swore and ran his hands through his hair in a way that twisted something painful in Lidya’s gut but she ignored it, just like she ignored Kalec and Ansirem who both went to sit down and Khadgar who was a lot paler than a second before. She kept her eyes firmly turned on Thassarian.

“I got the Tear of Elune but the druids...” she swallowed with difficulty, “a lot of them are gone.”

“Where is Tyrande?” asked Varian, forcing Lidya to finally meet his eyes.

“She stayed at the Temple of Elune.”

“Can someone portal me there?” he asked, turning to Modera and Karlain, the two Council members closest to him.

Karlain immediately nodded and started to cast a spell and Lidya took it as her clue to leave – which she was glad for. She turned away just as Varian looked back at her, quickly said her goodbyes and blinked to the door, eager to teleport to her bedchambers and not get out until at least the next day, once both Ravandwyr and Ilana would be banging at her door and threatening to drag her out by her hair if they had to.

Unfortunately, Varian caught her by the elbow as soon as she was out of the room and in the deserted antechamber.

“Hey,” he said, gently, as soon as she forced herself to turn around and meet his eyes, “this is not on you. You only did what you had to.”

She nodded, a little shakily and not really believing it, and something in Varian’s face changed – like there was a new layer of worry there now.

“Just,” he started, frowning a little more as he squeezed her elbow he was still holding, “hang on tight, okay?” It’ll be fine, we’ll make it through this.”

Lidya nodded again, firmer this time. Those were the words she wanted to hear, and the fact that they were coming out of Varian’s mouth somehow made her believe it even more.

“Okay,” she murmured, nodding slightly as his hand squeezed her arm reassuringly again.

He tried for a smile but the worry was still here, clear as day.

  


  


***

  


  


In the end, Lidya found herself at A Hero’s Welcome with Ilana, drinking the pain and fear and doubt away.

They had gone to the Darkheart Thicket and managed to get Malfurion back, but the warrior who had been with their group had succumbed to the paranoia and killed himself before anything could be done to help him. Lidya had never met him before, but seeing him die after fighting all those terrible things with him, it felt a lot like losing a friend.

Next to her at the table Ilana didn’t look much better, and Lidya wondered if she had seen something in the Nightmare. Few things could affect a demon hunter who had ritualistically burned off her own eyes, and Lidya knew for a fact that it wasn’t the warrior’s death – Ilana had started to act strange before that.

“You saw something?” she asked, the first words exchanged between the two of them since they had arrived.

Ilana nodded, not looking away from her glass on the table. She had been doing nothing but that for a little while now, clinking her claws against the glass every now and then, lips pursed.

“It showed me distorted memories,” she said after another long moment, right as Lidya was starting to make peace with the fact that she wasn’t about to reply. “Memories from my life, before, and from what I saw when I became a demon hunter.”

Lidya had no idea what one saw when becoming a demon hunter, but it couldn’t be very good, so she just nodded too and focused back on her own glass.

“I’ll see more, when we go kill Xavius, and you’ll probably have to see stuff too, so be prepared, it’s not going to be pretty.”

“I know,” she sighed. She knew it was going to happen, one way or another, and she really wasn’t looking forward to it, but it wasn’t like she had a choice. They couldn’t let the Emerald Dream in this state, and they had to deal with it before it affected their campaign against the Legion even more – but still, Lidya had a terrible feeling about what was going to happen there.

For a while they didn’t say nor drink more. They just sat there, each lost in her thoughts, not paying any attention to what was going on around them.

“It’s my husband, you know,” finally said Ilana, taking Lidya by surprise.

“ _You have a husband?_ ”

Ilana shrugged casually and looked up at her.

“Had. Still have, I guess. We both thought the other was dead after the legion attacked, and found each other again at the Black Temple.”

Lidya just stared at her, flabbergasted.

“It’s Loramus,” added Ilana, looking back down, claws clicking rapidly against the glass, a nervous _clickclickclick_ that sounded surprisingly deafening in the silence between them.

“Loramus is your husband?” repeated the mage after a moment, feeling like her face was a little numb.

“Yeah,” snorted the demon hunter, a bitter smirk twisting her lips. “Why else would I have even trusted you so quickly just because he told me I could?”

“That… actually makes a lot of sense. Light, I… I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching over the table to put a hand on one of Ilana’s.

The clicking of her claws stopped and she didn’t move for a second, before slowly looking up at Lidya.

“You resurrected him and helped him finish his mission,” she said, tone softer than Lidya had ever heard her use, “you don’t have to apologize for anything.”

“But he’s–”

“– alive and still able to help the Illidari destroy the Legion. This is what our mission is about, it’s okay.”

And Ilana’s hand slipped from under hers to get on it and squeeze it reassuringly.

“He’s not dead anymore, that’s all that matters for now.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“Maybe, but I have an army of demon hunters to lead and no time to feel sorry about that,” she replied before brusquely getting up and leaving the tavern without a look backwards.

Lidya kept staring at Ilana’s drink long after she was gone.

  


  


***

  


  


“What are you doing?”

Lidya didn’t jump in surprise only because she had guessed that someone was coming by the agitation and sudden disappearance of most of the murlocs.

She said nothing as Varian came next to her and slowly sat down on the ground, his legs dangling over the edge too.

There was no way sitting on the ground while wearing all plate armor was comfortable.

“This place relaxes me,” she said after a moment.

“The weather is terrible,” he replied and Lidya turned her temperature a little hotter, feeling his arm brush against hers. “You’ve been here long?”

She shrugged, having lost track of time for about two days now.

The smell of burnt grass clung to her and it felt like this was the only thing her life was about now. Burn nightmare infected vegetation, fight a satyr, kill a druid who had succumbed to the Nightmare, come here to forget about it, rinse and repeat.

“Malfurion sent me looking for you because he says he’s ready to start planning the attack against the Nightmare.”

“He’s already done enough, doesn’t he think?”

“I agree,” replied Varian in a tone that said a lot more than that, “but he’s the strongest druid we have on our side for now, and he’s sure that he can get at least Cenarius to come back to himself.”

“How? With the power of love?”

Varian chuckled softly and Lidya finally stopped staring at the grayish sea to look at him.

He looked a lot more tired than the last time she had seen him and she wondered if his eyes had always been this shade of gray. She was pretty sure they usually looked pale blue.

“Do you feel okay?”

She shrugged.

“I’ll have to, eventually.”

“Yeah...” he said, turning to look at the sea, “but in the mean time it doesn’t reassure me to see you spend most of your free time all alone on this island with nothing but murlocs to keep you company.”

“Come on,” she said, trying for a light tone as she gently knocked her shoulder against his, “I’m not all alone, _you’re here_.”

He snorted, sounding a lot less elegant than before, and knocked his shoulder back against hers.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, and I appreciate the concern, but it’s fine, _I swear_.” He gave her an incredulous look and she rolled her eyes. “I’m just a little burned out, okay? I feel like I haven’t stopped fighting in a _long_ while, I’m just tired.”

“I know,” he replied, looking down at his hands, “and I have to admit that it doesn’t make me feel good, how much we rely on you to save the day every single time.”

She tried to cut him there but his eyes, when they met hers as he raised his head again, stopped her.

“I understand what you’re going through, and while I know that it doesn’t help, I’m glad you’re fighting with us and willing to put up with everything you’ve gone through for the good of the Alliance.”

“I’m glad to serve,” she replied, voice a lot weaker than she expected.

Varian smiled softly at that.

  


  


***

  


  


After waking up feeling sore all over in what had to be The Most Depressing Village of all Azeroth – and really, what was wrong with Gilneans and why did they like that somber aesthetic so much? – the last thing Lidya needed was to have to deal with a murderous demon hunter.

Unfortunately, Jarod Shadowsong had other plans for Ilana and her.

It all started when Jarod asked them for help in finding his sister. Ilana’s first reaction was to put her glaive through his throat, but fortunately Jarod ducked and didn’t take it personally. Instead, and by some kind of magic Lidya _really_ wished she possessed too, he managed to convince the demon hunter to do it although her first priority, when seeing Maiev, was to avenge the Illidari.

Then, things somehow got worse when they found a good number of dead Illidari who had very obviously been tortured. There was only one survivor, and Ilana hugged her for a good two minutes before they both decided that their job here was done and all the Shadowsongs in history could go fuck themselves.

Which left Lidya all by herself to deal with a furious Maiev and a seriously unhelpful Jarod. It was too bad, really, because Lidya really liked him, and the risks that she would set everything and everyone on fire were gradually climbing after every second she spent with those two, so in the end she chose to teleport back to the Hall of the Guardian, in Dalaran, without even telling them.

One second she was following them out of the creepy torture prison, the other she was facing a group of surprised apprentices and one big water elemental.

“What’s wrong with that one?” she asked, pointing at the elemental with her chin.

A blonde gnome girl quickly dismissed it, blushing furious.

“No-nothing!” she stammered, before taking a step closer to Lidya and looking up at her with big pleading eyes, “don’t tell Archmage Modera that you saw it, _please_.”

Lidya rolled her eyes. “I don’t care enough to tell her, to be honest, but you really better work on that. Maybe try with less ice and more arcane.”

“Thank you!” she beamed, and Lidya decided to leave them all to their own business when the gnome immediately turned to the other apprentices and started to cast a spell.

She hoped no one would accidentally almost make the entire place explode. It had happened twice already and she was pretty sure Ansirem and Merryl would have her head if it happened for real.

Ravandwyr was standing right in front of the mission board and she joined him with quick steps, anticipation twisting her stomach when she realized that the elf was slightly shaking.

“He’s there,” he told her when she arrived next to him, pointing at a point on the map of the Broken Isle suspended in front of them.

“Suramar? Are you sure?”

“Yes, Archmage Kalec is already writing a full report for you but… there’s no way we’re wrong. He’s there.”

“So is the Legion,” she commented, frowning at that one spot on the map his finger was still pointing at.

Lidya still hadn’t set foot in Suramar officially, but it wasn’t hard to know what was waiting for her. The Legion ship was visible from Krasus Landing and she had flew over it a few times to know that the number of demons she’d have to go through before finding Vargoth was absolutely insane.

“Okay,” she still said, because it wasn’t like she had a choice here, “I’ll go, let me just plan something.”

“I want to come with you,” he replied, which she had been expecting.

“No. You need to catch your breath after all those missions and let me handle it. I want to find him too, and I think this is a little too personal for you to handle it properly. I promise to come get you if it gets too much, but I want to try it by myself first.”

He wasn’t happy, she could tell, but he nodded, turned on his heels and left the room without a word.

“Oh, what now.” she muttered to herself just as an apprentice in purple robes approached her.

“Conjurer?” he asked, handing her a letter, “High King Wrynn wanted me to give you this. He said it was important.”

Lidya took the letter while thanking him and immediately broke the seal to skim over its content, feeling her stomach drop.

“Has anyone seen Khadgar?!” she called to the room at large, looking up from the letter to look around, a little panicked.

“I’m right here!” the archmage called back, stepping from behind a huge pillar. He looked confused as Lidya blinked to him and shoved the letter at his chest.

“We’re attacking the Nightmare,” she said, “in two hours, which means _now_ in terms of war. What the fuck?!”

“I believe Varian and Malfurion have a plan,” he replied with the best try at a smile she had ever seen. It didn’t make her feel better, but she appreciated the effort.

“That plan better be fucking good, because I swear on the Light, I’m not dying today.”

“You won’t,” replied Khadgar, suddenly looking somber. “Do you hear me, Lidya? You _won’t_.”

She nodded, holding his gaze for a moment, before realizing that everyone around them was staring, and she had more important things to do.

“I have to go find Ilana,” she announced, “we’ll meet back here when we come back?”

“Go to the Violet Citadel. The rest of the Council will want to hear about what happens.”

“Alright,” she said, nodding, before giving him one last forced smile and turning around to get out of here and hunt down her favorite demon hunter.

  


  


***

  


  


Lidya had known the risks of stepping into the Nightmare. She had already seen so many who had succumbed to it, and it never stopped making her uncomfortable and strangely remember days spent fighting the Shas in Pandaria, so she knew, without a doubt, that it was the kind of experience that stayed with people. The kind that scarred you for ever, no matter what you did to try and stop it.

Still, there was a difference between knowing something, and living it.

She felt Ilana’s clawed hand gab onto her sleeve and twist into the fabric, ripping it as her knees gave out and she heavily fell on the group, gasping in terror as the red and sick looking trees around her disappeared, leaving place to green lush grass.

Lidya only had one second to reach for the pouch at her belt, already knowing where she was and what she was supposed to do, before the floor under her disappeared as she was violently propelled up, up, up, high into the sky.

She fumbled for her Tears of the Goddess, hands shaking, stomach in her throat and tears of absolute terror in her eyes, until finally managing to use it and slow down her fall. Breathing out a shaky sigh of relief, she looked around at the absolute chaos and other falling bodies, wondering why they all seemed to be falling so fast compared to her, when realization dawned on her and she watched, horrified, a dwarf crash down on the ground, bones breaking loudly and some blood flying.

“No,” she murmured, looking to her right at a night elf warrior who had shared some potions with her only moments before and zoomed past her, crashing down too, one of his leg almost detaching from his body in the process. “No!” yelled Lidya, voice shrill, loud, but not enough against the wind blowing all around her, “Light no, please, _please no_!”

Another body crashed down, the horrible sound ringing even louder than the last two, making her feel sick and absolutely helpless.

She tried to grab the woman who fell near her next by the arm, but she was too far away, and for some reason couldn’t look away when she crashed.

“Please, make it stop,” she whispered, watching another night elf, a druid this time, fall past her, their eyes meeting for a terrible moment “please, Light, _please_ , I’m begging, make it stop.”

“Lidya!” shouted someone instead, a voice she recognized, a voice she didn’t want to hear, not now, with everyone dying around her.

She looked up, meeting pale eyes from which Light itself emanated, and her heart stopped beating for a moment.

“Lidya!” he yelled again, blue face distorted into an expression of pure terror when he reached out to her with both hands and realized he was too far away at the same time as she did.

“Balan!” she called back, trying to blink closer to him – and when that didn’t work she tried to cast a slow fall on him, which didn’t work either. “Balan use your shield!”

The only reaction she got was her name screamed again right before he touched the ground, the sound even louder than before, resonating in the suddenly silent clearing as Lidya watched, eyes wide open, lips parted in a silent scream of horror, unable to do anything but continue her slow descent as she watched his bloody and lifeless body grow closer.

She was jerked away from this vision when someone grabbed her by the arm and violently pushed her.

Lidya stumbled, feet on hard ground again, and she dumbly blinked down at her shoes, then up at the person holding her hand – a night elf druid she didn’t know, who was frowning and holding Ilana with her other hand.

“Are you two okay?” she asked, eyes going from one to the other.

Lidya swallowed through the knot in her throat and looked around, at most of the raid either kneeling on the ground screaming or moaning in fear or confusingly looking around like her after apparently having been shaken out of it.

“Yes,” grunted Ilana, who still had one knee on the ground and stood up with effort. “We’re fine.”

Lidya nodded jerkily when the druid turned to her but it seemed enough because she left them to it and went to shake someone else. The mage watched her, trying to take her mind off of what she had just seen, entire body still shaking violently.

“It was just a nightmare,” she whispered after a while, as more and more people were shaken out of it and Ilana had taken a step closer to her – maybe a little too close, but Lidya wasn’t about to tell her off, on the contrary.

“Felt a little too real,” replied Ilana between gritted teeth.

“I know.” She turned to look at her, knowing that the Big Bad Demon Hunter wouldn’t seek comfort even when she needed to, not in front of all these people she didn’t know, and reached for her hand, gently squeezing it and trying to offer the closest thing to a smile she could manage when Ilana looked down at her.

She nodded, just a slight movement of the chin, and squeezed back.

  


  


***

  


  


Fighting Xavius had to be the most traumatizing thing Lidya had ever done. So much so that by the time he fell down dead on the ground and their entire group of hero ended up in the Dream, surrounded by the place’s naturally comforting aura, Lidya just had enough energy to sit down on the ground, shaking violently, and hug her sword close to her chest.

Her brain couldn’t process everything that had happened in the Nightmare. All of the terrible things she had seen.

Balan.

She had done her best no to think about him for years, and really, it was almost ridiculous to be so shaken up by a stupid vision – especially since she _knew_ for a fact that none of it had happened. He had died that day, yes, but not like that. She hadn’t witnessed it, but it hadn’t been hard to guess what had killed him when she had practically thrown herself on top of his body and ended up covered in blue blood.

Anaar had been the only one able to steer her away from Balan’s body and talk to her through the ringing in her ears.

She had hold on to him as tight as he was clutching her, and together they had sobbed on the ground until a night elf had come and forced them through a portal to Shattrath.

“Come on,” muttered Ilana, taking her out of her thoughts.

Lidya looked up at her through teary eyes and accepted her helping hand to get to her feet.

She had seen the elf in her demonic form for the first time that day, and while it should scare her, after all the other things she had witnessed that day, it almost seemed tame, and she trusted Ilana to stay in control of her demon anyway.

She then started to think about other demon hunters, wondering if their demonic forms were as different as their normal body, and this stupid train of thought kept her so busy, she didn’t even realized that Ilana was leading her through a portal up until the point where she was told by the demon hunter to sit.

Lidya did as she was told, looking down at the red plush chair with a confused frown, before looking up.

She was in the Violet Citadel.

“How did we get here?” she asked as Ilana sat down on the ground right in front of her, going as far as leaning back against her legs.

Her ponytail had come undone during the fight and she said nothing when Lidya sheathed Felo’melorn and started to comb fingers through her purple hair.

“That other mage made a portal,” she replied, ears flickering slightly when Lidya’s fingers accidentally bumped against the base of one of her horns. “He’s speaking to the Six and Varian right now, with the Highlord and that weird warrior.”

“I told you, she’s a monk,” she replied, not even knowing how she was able to speak so coherently when her brain was just replaying the past six hours again and again in her head. “Do you think it’s gonna be long? I have other things to do.”

“I don’t know,” sighed Ilana, before handing her a small leather string, “Make that ponytail tight, I don’t want it to come undone after one jump.”

“You really shouldn’t backflip this much anyway...” muttered Lidya while grabbing the string – it was an old conversation they kept having, and it was simple and familiar enough to help her be a little more grounded to reality.

She didn’t think she had ever been this grateful for a distraction before in her life.

For the following hour – or at least that’s what Ilana said it felt like, because Lidya swore it was at the same time a second and a week – she tied and untied and retied the demon hunter’s hair, staying focused on the purple strands and her fingers, trying different styles of braids, from the simplest to the craziest ones, before redoing a simple ponytail when Ilana’s claws gently bumped against her wrist.

Ponytail done, Ilana started to get to her feet and Lidya finally looked up, meeting Varian’s eyes for a second before Khadgar was stepping in front of her when Ilana moved.

“Are you two okay?” asked the archmage with a frown.

Lidya and Ilana exchanged a glance.

“I’m fine,” said the demon hunter.

“I need to go to Draenor,” added Lidya.

She received three surprised look but didn’t pay them any attention.

“I’ll be back in two days, maybe three, Kalec’s report should be finished by then so I’ll be able to go investigate Suramar and see if Archmage Vargoth is really there.”

“You’re not going back to Draenor Lidya,” announced Khadgar, suddenly looking twice as somber as before, as he took a step closer to her and put a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You can’t.”

“There’s something I have to do there.”

“We both know how you feel about Draenor.”

“You don’t know everything, Khadgar. I have to do this. I’ll be back shortly.”

He wanted to protest, she could see it, but she chose to ignore him and took a step back so he wasn’t touching her anymore.

“Just make sure Ravandwyr doesn’t go crazy while I’m gone,” she said, before closing her eyes and focusing on her garrison, getting the mental image crystal clear before arcane magic surged through her body and _boom_ in an instant the air around her was different. The sounds and the smell familiar, although the place looked a little empty now.

She had arrived right in the middle of her garrison, near the fountain, and didn’t lose a second. She started walking towards the barracks, offering quick salutes to the few people still there who greeted her when she passed them.

A draenei male was standing in front of the barracks when she arrived, and for a second Lidya couldn’t believe her luck as he turned to watch her and broke into a smile.

“Lidya!” he called, opening his arms when she reached him so they could hug, “long time no see, how are you?”

“I could be better, Braan. How are you?”

“Same as always,” he replied, stepping back and frowning slightly, “You’re here to see my father, right?”

Lidya nodded and Braan grimaced.

“He’s back on Azeroth. He went to Light’s Hope Chapel after what happened on the Broken Shore, to fight the Legion.”

Something must have passed on Lidya’s face, because Braan immediately squeezed her shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile.

“He’ll be very happy to see you. He tries not to show it, but he misses you very much.”

“I know,” she replied, trying for a smile of her own, “I miss him very much too.”

“You should go see him now then, don’t humor me, I have work to do anyway.”

“I hope so,” she chuckled, stepping back and already missing the weight of his hand on her shoulder, “I didn’t leave my garrison to your care for you to slack.”

“And I’m not, so go now. We obviously both have more important things to do.”

Feeling herself start to smile, Lidya rolled her eyes at his antics and started to cast another teleportation spell.

  


  


***

  


  


Flying from Ironforge to the Eastern Plaguelands took her an entire day and she was extremely glad for her trusty grand armored gryphon’s stamina and speed. She was pretty sure a lesser mount would have stopped flying and refused to go any further halfway through the trip.

She arrived to Light’s Hope Chapel in the late afternoon and took a moment, while her gryphon was drinking water she had just summoned, to watch the recruits milling around the place. She had never seen so many people there at the same time – but then again, the last time she had been here the only people who had really wanted to get to this place was a pair of reckless paladins and a nice worgen woman who had traveled with her through this hellish region using a caravan. It had been in the months following the Lich King’s death and Lidya had left this place as quickly as she could, not wanting to spend any more time in the presence of the scrouge as she had to.

And now she was back, after a cataclysm, a new continent and a trip to an alternate planet.

“Sister?!” she heard from behind her, a voice so familiar she felt herself start to relax for the first time since that horrible day on the Broken Shore.

When she turned around she met Anaar’s eyes and watched as he quickly crossed the space separating them, apologizing in a low tone every time he accidentally pushed someone, before he was sweeping her off her feet and hugging her close to his chest, tight enough that it almost hurt.

Lidya clung to his shiny armor with as much force, closing her eyes and feeling something in her chest begin to loosen enough that she could finally start to cry.

  


  


***

  


  


“I know it’s stupid,” she murmured, “I know what I saw wasn’t real and it’s not how Balan died, but I can’t stop seeing it happen in my head, again and again, and it’s like I’m back in time and having to deal with the grief once again.”

Anaar’s hand closed over hers, an almost imperceptible movement in the low light of the inn, and Lidya had to take a second to close her eyes and thank the Light for having him when she felt his own Light wash over her, warm and comforting and everything she missed about Balan.

It wasn’t the same, but it was close enough to make her feel bittersweet about it.

“The events of Draenor were hard for all of us,” he replied after a moment, “and I was here during the fight against Archimonde, I know how you feel, and there’s no shame at all to feel like this. We both know that Balan and all my other siblings are still alive and well, protected inside Shattrath, just out of reach when I, _we_ miss them so much. It’s not easy – and knowing that there’s a version of me, who is with them and never had to live through the pain of losing every single one of them only makes it harder, but it’s not stupid, and I’m glad you came to me.”

“Like you said, you’re the only one who knows how it feels.”

“I also know that Balan would be proud that you decided to seek help instead of powering through your problems. And he’d be _so_ proud of all the things you’ve accomplished since his death.”

Lidya turned her hand over so they were palm to palm and squeezed his hand instead of replying.

“Do you remember where we were in life when we met?”

The mage chuckled and looked at Anaar, nodding.

“I was no one and secretly working for my former mentor while you guys had just crashed on our planet.”

“Not our proudest moments.”

“No,” she agreed, unable to stop herself from smiling as she recalled the events.

It had been some of the happiest days in her life, despite all of the horrors they had witness on Outland and that fight she had had with Archmage Draerin when she had told him that she was leaving Azeroth for a time.

“Everyday I think about how different out lives would be if he was still alive, you know.”

Anaar made an agreeing sound in his throat and gestured to a passing server that they needed new drinks.

  


  


***

  


  


In the end, Lidya spent fours days away from Dalaran and her life there – most of which were spent in an inn in Stomrwind, of all places, because Anaar liked the food there – but she knew she had to come back at some point, and she had promised to a certain high elf that she would go looking for his archmage as soon as possible, and that’s what she did. She teleported back to Dalaran and found Kalec, who didn’t look very happy to be used as transportation but he was one of her only way to fly to Suramar and the place called the Arcway in hope of finally finding Vargoth.

Things, as was often the case, went south very quickly, and in the end Lidya arrived back at the Hall of the Guardian with the infamous Millhouse Manastorm in tow and no Archmage Vargoth.

She headed to the floor where her room was situated in the Violet Citadel and started hunting for one well-known redheaded Archmage.

She found him after about ten minutes, explaining the theory of food conjuration to a large group of fresh faced mages.

For a while, she stayed at the back of the group, just listening to what Aethas was saying. He was brilliant, and a good teacher, she had to admit – although that didn’t surprise her in the slightest. He used to be one of the Six after all, and it was for a really good reason.

It must hurt to be back in Dalaran and have to watch from afar as his replacement was handling a threat as big as the Legion, and Lidya still couldn’t believe that his sunreavers and him had been asking to come back. She didn’t think she would have had the courage to if something similar to the Purge had happened to her.

Aethas finished his explanation and looked up directly at her as the people around him started to walk away.

They stared at each other in silence until they were the only people left in the hallway.

“Conjurer,” he said, “what brings you here?”

“I have a small favor to ask, but I’d understand if you refused.”

Aethas frowned and stepped closer.

“I’m listening,” he said.

Lidya took the letter she had finished writting just before leaving Stormwind out of her pocket and handed it to him, not surprised when he only looked at it without touching it.

“Would you please deliver it to someone for me?”

“Archmage Draerin,” he read from the envelope. His eyebrows shuddered a little. “Although he lives in Quel’danas, he’s a High Elf, you could send it to him going through the usual route.”

“So you know who he is.”

“We’ve met, yes.”

“Then you know that while he’s a High Elf, he also strongly supports the Regent Lord and doesn’t care much about the tensions between Horde and Alliance, and you understand that I am in an uncomfortable situation.”

His lips curled into an amused smirk as he crossed his arms.

“Explain the situation to me, please.”

Lidya stopped herself from rolling her eyes because the sole fact that he was willingly hearing her out was a lot – Light knew she wouldn’t if their positions were reversed.

“I’m very vocal about my position regarding the Alliance, and while Horde members were readmitted into Dalaran, tensions are still high and I found myself more or less leading the Tirisgarde. It can’t be known that I’m reaching out to him.”

“Because he’s siding with the Horde?”

“Yes, but also because he was expelled from the Kirin Tor.”

“Weren’t you too, with him?”

It was Lidya’s turn to smirk. He had done his homework.

“I was, but mostly because I refused to throw him under the bus and stood by him when the Council made the decision. I’m also close enough to half of nowadays’s Council that it hasn’t been an issue yet.”

“But not close enough to directly send a letter to Archmage Draerin.”

She shook her head and gestured with her chin to the envelope she was still holding out.

“Will you help me, please?”

“I will,” he said, and Lidya felt a weight lift from her shoulders, “since you helped my sunreavers’ case during the vote to readmit the Horde in the city.”

“I only did what I think was right.”

“Exactly,” he replied, before finally grabbing the letter and slipping it inside his pocket. “I’m going back to Silvermoon tomorrow night, I’ll do it then.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded and immediately blinked away.

  


  


***

  


  


Lidya, having started her career as an adventurer at the prime age of sixteen and a half years old, was used to having people around her constantly worry about her, but after defeating the Lich King, she had thought it to be behind her.

She had been wrong, if Khadgar, Ilana, Varian and _even_ Ravandwyr were anything to go by.

“It’s not her,” loudly said Varian, “and we both know that!”

That was the sentence that stopped Lidya from walking down the stairs to A Hero’s Welcome’s basement. She froze, a foot on the first step, and listened carefully.

“I know,” sighed Khadgar, “and I wish I could tell you what happened, but the truth is that I don’t know. She’s been different ever since Maraad died, and I can’t seem to be able to bring the subject to the table in front of her, she never lets me.”

“We should let her deal with her problems herself. She doesn’t need us,” said Ilana.

She could probably see Lidya despite the hardwood floor separating them, and the mage wondered why she wasn’t telling the others that she was here.

Varian snorted. “Last time I did that, I didn’t see her for an entire month and learned a lot later that she was actually infected by a sha.”

Dread filled Lidya. She hadn’t been sure, could never tell if Varian knew or not, but she guessed she had her answer now – not that it made her feel better, quite the contrary. If Varian was talking about what she thought, and he knew that by going after Anduin while she was under the effect of the sha she had put him in even more danger than he had already been in, then why wasn’t he more mad at her? He had never said anything about it, but surely he resented her for that. After all, the single most important thing in the world to him was his son’s well-being.

She took a step back, only half listening as Ravandwyr and Khadgar started bickering over her actions before she had left, and thought for a second about leaving again. Lakeshire wasn’t the best this time of the year, but it sure beat Stormwind and the Plaguelands, and she was pretty sure neither Léria nor Anaar would let her run away from Dalaran like that.

“She’ll be back,” said Ilana, cutting through everyone’s loud voices and Lidya’s thoughts. “She needs time after whatever she saw in the Nightmare, and we _can_ give her that. It’s not like she’s gone for ever.”

Lidya couldn’t help but smile with amusement as she realized that Ilana, the elf she had once seen run into _at least_ a group of fifty heavily armed demons because she didn’t want to wait any longer for back-up, was telling the other to be patient.

Yes, she needed time, but she also needed to get stronger to put an end to the Legion. She needed to finally find Archmage Vargoth, and recruit new apprentices for the Tirisgarde, and there was the situation at the Blackrook Hold that needed to be taken care of, and all of that was without thinking about the content of that letter she had given to Aethas.

Azeroth needed her a lot more than she needed time, so instead of turning around and leaving or teleporting away, Lidya took a steady breath in, and loudly told Nomi to fuck off although he wasn’t here before starting to walk down the stairs in the newfound silence following her exclamation. She hoped no one would ask too many questions, because she seriously didn’t think she could answer any of them, and plastered her best fake smile on her face once she arrived in the basement and faced those four worriers she called friends.

“Hey,” she said, “you’ll never guess who just joined the Tirisgarde.”


End file.
